


rejoice, my heart

by ladypeaceful



Series: each time the universe splits, i'll find you in the stars again [3]
Category: Druck | SKAM (Germany)
Genre: Cooking, Drabble, F/M, Family Fluff, Muslim Character, druck is truly magical, i didn't write for 2 years and now i've written 2 things in one day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-11 16:27:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19931038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladypeaceful/pseuds/ladypeaceful
Summary: before essam can say anything, the soft sound of footsteps, quick but gentle, padding down the stairs makes amira look up. mohammed meets her eyes with his own shy gaze, that look he always has when she catches him stealing glances at her, like she’s too radiant to look at for too long but he can’t resist staring anyway. (it feels the same way when she looks at him, but no one has to know that.)





	rejoice, my heart

**Author's Note:**

> \- inspired by [this ask i saw on tumblr](https://softamira.tumblr.com/post/186472578764/mohammed-making-dinner-for-amira-after-shes-had-a)  
> \- title is from el-leila by amr diab

she closes the front door a little harder behind her than she means to, and stops to close her eyes and breathe for a second. attempts to calm the whirling thoughts in her mind and the churning, simmering rage boiling low in her stomach.

“litschi, you’re home!”

her eyes snap open and essam is standing there, looking at her like he’s got some big secret (or a mischievous prank, more likely) up his sleeve but amira isn’t in the mood for it.

“na?” she asks wearily, letting her bag slide off her shoulder straight onto the ground, where she leaves it for a few moments before halfheartedly kicking it to the foot of the stairs. “what do you want?”

before essam can say anything, the soft sound of footsteps, quick but gentle, padding down the stairs makes amira look up. mohammed meets her eyes with his own shy gaze, that look he always has when she catches him stealing glances at her, like she’s too radiant to look at for too long but he can’t resist staring anyway. (it feels the same way when she looks at him, but no one has to know that.)

“hey, na?” mohammed seems to detect something from amira’s face that essam hasn’t, because his brows knit together when he asks, “you okay?”

“just tired. long day,” amira tries to shrug off his concern, though it makes her stomach flip that he noticed something was wrong right away. he takes a few steps forward, still looking bashful but also undeniably affectionate as he says, “i was gonna make something to eat. do you want some?”

he’s fidgeting with his hands like he needs to keep them occupied, and her spirits lift at the vision her brain conjures up, of her brothers’ chatter and food and laughter, and exchanging quietly grateful looks and maybe fingers brushing when passing utensils back and forth. not trusting herself to speak steadily at the moment, she smiles at him, probably her first genuine smile that day, and just nods.

\--

mohammed moves between the stove and the sink, bustling around with the ease of someone who knows their way around a kitchen, and amira sits at the counter with her chin on her knuckles and tries to school her expression into something half as smitten as she feels. she could almost forget the reason for her bad mood from earlier.

an array of brightly colored vegetables gradually spreads across the counter as mohammed methodically washes and cuts them: eggplant, zucchini, carrots, tomatoes, onions, and potatoes, neatly lined up and ready to enter the pan that is currently filled with a simmering mixture of ground beef and spices.

“smells delicious,” omar makes a show of wafting the aromas to his nose as he enters the kitchen. “what are you making?”

“turley,” mohammed replies, stirring the meat, making it sizzle and pop in the oil.

“you should put it together like they do in ratatouille,” essam pipes up from the dining table.

“that’s a kid’s movie starring a rat and a guy named after pasta,” omar laughs.

“and your point is?” essam tosses back, defiant.

“that you’re a kid, fruchtzwerg,” amira retorts, albeit lovingly. essam sticks out his tongue at her, further proving her point.

“i’m up for the challenge,” mohammed grins at amira, and she can’t help but beam back at him. “if i can get a little help?”

the next twenty minutes are filled with chaos, between amira having to slap essam away from stealing bits of carrot and tomato off the counter, and omar playing _el-leila_ at full volume on his phone and grabbing amira by the shoulders to dance with her. mohammed is delighted by all of it, even when essam joins in the dancing and he and omar end up laughing and shoving each other around dangerously close to the food. when all of the vegetables are finally in their place, mohammed puts the baking dish into the oven and turns to again lock eyes with amira.

“feeling better?” his gaze is soft, almost nurturing, and amira feels the last vestiges of the thunderstorm in her mind beginning to dissipate.

“a lot better, yeah. i didn’t want to be grumpy, sorry.”

“nothing to be sorry about,” mohammed’s eyes dart down to where amira’s fiddling with the edge of her sweatshirt. “you’re allowed to feel whatever you feel.”

she’s so grateful in that moment, an unexpected burst of courage drives her to reach out and briefly grasp mohammed’s forearm, letting go quickly and letting her gaze drop to the floor as the heat rises inevitably to her cheeks.

“thank you.”

when she does look back up, she’s met once more only with that brilliant smile.

**Author's Note:**

> \- ~~yall catch that og skam reference ill throw myself into the dumpster now lmao bye~~  
>  \- [turley is like the egyptian version of ratatouille](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=atiug4eZZzU)  
> \- [this is the song that omar plays](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LWiC-mSF85Y) (which i definitely picked for its cheesy lyrics)  
> \- [reblog it on tumblr!!](https://isaksavedeven.tumblr.com/post/186478788457/she-closes-the-front-door-a-little-harder-behind)


End file.
